Check
by Greenlips24
Summary: Anne and Olivier play chess. Short but sweet, with a hint of promise, perhaps.


**Check**

By Greenlips 24

I am working on a new story, but until it's fully formed, this fluff is for the romantics amongst you; it's an interpretation of the iconic chess scene from 1968 film "The Thomas Crown Affair", starring Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway.

Now the players are Anne and Olivier in their early days, when she is reeling him in.

Warning: Innocent perhaps, but somewhat heavy with the hint of intrigue and seduction, as always with these two.

Are you sitting comfortably?

Then let the game begin...

 _ **Chess: A game of strategic skill for two players, the object of which is to put the opponent's King under a direct attack from which escape is ... impossible.**_

The room is mellow, partly lit by candles.

She loves this room.

The square wooden table with two chairs is set in front of the roaring fire, which casts light and warmth into the room.

She wears a white gown which accentuates her waist and her dark hair is pinned high, beautifully and elegantly, with blue forget-me-nots woven among the soft waves.

She walks slowly around the table, and comes to a halt behind one of the chairs, looking down at the chessboard, studying the half finished game, hand on her hip.

He is already seated, studying her, almost melting into the shadows in his black muslin shirt.

The light from the fire illuminates his green eyes, warm shadows playing across his face.

He watches her.

"Do you play?" he murmurs.

She gives him her full gaze.

"Try me."

oOo

Both seated now, he moves forward to place the white pawn.

White goes first, always.

She counters languidly with the black.

He places his Knight.

Her turn.

He looks at her and smiles.

She returns the smile, eyes locked on his.

His move.

She counters.

His hand lays still next to the board.

His next move is confident, and he crosses his arms and looks smugly at her, raising an eyebrow.

But she is ready, with a move that makes him purse his lips and again raise his eyebrows in slight surprise.

Now she places her hand beside the board, and stretches her long fingers, languidly.

He frowns, and idly rubs the side of his face and moves his hand, resettling his shirt against his throat, contemplating his next move.

She leans forward now and absently runs her fingers along her neckline and down the creamy skin of her arm, and the soft curve of her shoulder - seemingly lost in the game, but fully aware of what she is doing.

He is distracted – caught in the moment; almost drowning, before he pulls his eyes away and back down to the board.

He moves his King two squares toward his rook, and raises his finger to his lips, tapping gently, before raising his eyes to look at her.

She is looking at him now with wide eyed innocence. Pressing her lips together, she smiles, her hand snaking up to her shoulder, and along her jawline as she ponders her next move.

She takes his pawn easily.

The fire burns brightly.

He taps his fingers, thinking.

She mirrors his move, looking up at him.

He does not meet that gaze, but chews on his lower lip, deep in thought.

He blinks three times, and locks eyes with her, green on green.

She leans forward, and meets the gaze, her pupils wide.

His eyes are now on her mouth; before he again pulls his waining attention back to the game.

But she is now running a red tipped finger across her equally red lips, sucking the tip of her finger so slowly against her tongue.

Almost undone, he unconsciously raises his finger and slowly taps on his bottom lip.

She is caressing her Bishop, running her fingers lightly up and down the stem, the red of her nails contrasting against the tall black piece.

And he smirks.

She quickly raises an eyebrow, challenging, and the smirk instantly disappears.

She touches his leg beneath the table and he flinches, nervously.

She touches his hand at the side of the board, and he withdraws it, his fingers unconsciously curling into a loose fist.

His move; he slides the piece across the board, before tapping it in place.

It's her turn to smile now.

"Check," she says softly, victorious.

He is quiet.

Sitting back, she steeples her hands under her chin, watching him.

The fire roars in the hearth, the room is lost in shadows, save for the warm glow cast on the two players.

He pushes his chair back, and slowly stands, commanding the room. He does not look at her, but turns away, his back to her.

After a moments thought, he turns back then and stands behind the chair, his concentration seemingly on the board.

Her eyes remain lowered, and he grasps the back of the chair, leaning into it, still concentrating on the chess pieces.

Her position is lower, she sits submissively.

He slowly walks around the table, his eyes never leaving the board.

He comes to a halt at her side.

She is still seated, but now raises her eyes and looks up at him, through long dark lashes.

And then, he looks at her for the first time and his arm snakes out and he pulls her to her feet in one smooth movement.

"Let's play something else." He murmurs.

Taking her in his arms, the room slips away, its colours swirling around them.

The long, slow kiss that follows is gentle, eager, heart stopping.

May you find love, warmth and happiness in 2017.


End file.
